Deers and Don.....

The route to Kingston shopping centre from home can be done either by car along the eponymously named Kingston Road or by bike through Richmond Park. How truly amazing it is then to bike your way through a Royal Park in the middle of a major city of the world and come across these two magnificent beasts.

As an aside - Sometimes you get to enjoy the best things in life by mistake. Take last night for example.

Don McCullin is unquestionably the greatest living war photographer of our time and someone whose works I have long admired. When the RPS (Royal Photographic Society) recently announced in a newsletter to its members (of which I'm one) that Don McCullin would be speaking at the Royal National Geographic Society I immediately sent my payment in for a ticket. There was some slight dismay when after posting the cheque I read the small print where it said he would be talking in conjunction with a famous historian about their recent book which is a photographic essay of Roman architecture through northern Africa and not in fact about McCullins war works. Now don't get me wrong. I admire the Romans for everything they were able to do. But the thought of sitting in a lecture room with 399 boffins listening to an academic waffle on about the nuances of sand covered and wind blown Roman ruins doesn't normally rank in my top 10 things to do on a Monday night.  

How wrong can one be? Very, is the answer.

To anyone who has ever held a camera in their hands and more than a passing interest in photography McCullin is a demigod. He spoke with humour, candidacy, honesty, emotion and an abundance of humility. Yes, I was possibly the only male in the audience not wearing roman sandals, a crumpled linen jacket with a handkerchief tucked into the breast pocket, and growing a beard that nesting pigeons would be envious of, but regardless I felt privileged to see and hear the man in person. Interestingly he also spoke with remorse. Remorse that the path life had chosen for him was the photographic documentation of the horrors of war and not the photographing of beautiful ruins. He spoke with remorse of the terror and immeasurable cost of human life associated in the construction of many of these magnificent buildings. He spoke with remorse about the fragility of his own life and acceptance of it nearing its end. 

The Royal National Geographic Society lecture halls are themselves saturated in history and host to many great explorers who in days gone by would visit to recount their adventures to the members of the society. To sit in the main hall and listen to a man revered as a living legend then was truly a highlight of a very young week.